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The silence after the scream is worse than the scream itself. I’m not alone with my thoughts anymore. I’m alone with the possibility that someone else is hurting up there. Someone who doesn’t deserve to be. Or do we deserve to be here?

My body reacts out of instinct. I move to stand, but then stop. I run my hands down the bars. I’m caged in and powerless to do anything to help. My fingers curl around the bars and it feels as if the walls press in close, threatening to suffocate me.

Gritting my teeth, the tip of a fang cuts into my bottom lip. Whatever’s happening up there … I can’t stop it.

Being a vampire was meant to mean never being vulnerable again. No more fear, or grief, but I was wrong.

I don’t know how much longer I can survive down here.

It’s killing me.

4

TARA

The Host

Something is holding me down.

I look at the arm slung across my stomach. Frowning, I try to process what I’m seeing – pale walls and posters of bikini-clad women and men playing golf. I haven’t woken up in this room for quite some time.

My gaze flicks back to the man half on top of me, I watch Jace’s relaxed face for a moment. I can’t remember the last time he looked this peaceful. My mind spins, trying to recall the events of last night. I vaguely remember going to the party, and having some drinks, but the rest of the night is a blur.

I’m in different clothes. Not my own. I try to piece everything together, but I’m drawing a blank.

‘Quit squirming,’ Jace mutters, and I startle slightly at the deepness of his voice.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m just trying to remember what happened last night.’

‘Head hurts,’ he complains, voice heavy with sleep, his eyes screwed shut, creating tiny little wrinkles around the corners. ‘Too much talking.’

Exhaling, I sink further into the mattress and close my eyes. My mind is racing, but I eventually fall back asleep. When I wake a few hours later, I’m alone. Throwing the blankets off, I crawl out of bed, and feel light-headed when I stand. Gripping the wall, I wait for the world to right itself. I swear I hardly drank, but it feels as though I consumed every drop of alcohol in that house last night.

I don’t recall getting home last night, or what happened after I got there. Rubbing a hand down my face, I lean against the wall. The harder I try to think about last night, the more my head hurts. What the hell is going on?

‘Here,’ a voice says, startling me. Jace returns with pain relief in one hand, water in the other. ‘For the head.’

‘Oh,’ I say softly. ‘Thanks.’ Taking it from him, I throw the two capsules onto my tongue and wash them down. ‘I feel so unwell. I swear I didn’t even drink that much.’

‘It’s easy to not keep track of how much.’ He shrugs. ‘Did you have fun?’

Gravitating toward the bed, I collapse onto it. ‘Sure, I guess. Did you?’

He nods. ‘Yeah. Always have a good time with the boys.’

The boys.

It’s never about me, or us. Always them. I’m an afterthought.

I learnt that from an early age, but it has never been so apparent. ‘How did we get home?’ I ask, attempting to recall the events of last night but it seems the harder I focus, the blurrier the details become.

‘Wow, you really were drunk,’ he teases.

Frowning, I rub slow circles in my temples. I want to disagree with him, but how can I, when I truly can’t remember half of the night? It’s as if the memories are there but just out of reach.

‘I’m going to head off,’ Jace says, pulling me from my thoughts. There is a stiffness to his shoulders, and a frown line between his brows that never seems to cease. When he notices me staring, he forces a smile onto his face, as if I can’t tell when his smile isn’t genuine. ‘Work to do, people to see.’ I expect him to come over to me, but he performs a two-finger salute and disappears through the door.

Sighing, I collapse back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. My head is noisy, as though there’s a radio playing in my mind and I can’t turn the volume down. Feeling restless and a little uneasy, I push myself to my feet and exit the room.